


Secret Injury

by Rangergirl3



Series: Whumptober 2019 [26]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23539372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangergirl3/pseuds/Rangergirl3
Summary: This takes place soon after the revelation to the team that Keith is part-Galra. Allura's...not taking it well.
Relationships: Allura & Keith (Voltron)
Series: Whumptober 2019 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506101
Comments: 53
Kudos: 319





	Secret Injury

Keith adjusted his stance, turning to face the training bot. The others had gone to the viewing platform, gathering around Coran, who was telling them about one of the old Paladins' training exercises.

Allura watched him from near the door. Even as she came into his line of sight, the training bot charged forwards. Keith had expected the attack, but it came faster than he had anticipated.

He went down with a startled grunt of discomfort, but managed to roll out of the way of another strike from the bo staff.

Holy shit, this was _really_ difficult.

In other circumstances, Keith might have welcomed the challenge. As it was...Keith couldn't help but wonder if the Altean Princess was...well, the kindest way to put it would be something along the lines of 'working through a lot of things'.

Which, in this case, just might include waiting to see how many times he could take getting hit before stepping in to stop the training sequence.

_No, she wouldn't do that,_ he told himself. _She's a good person. She's just angry, but - no. She wouldn't do that._

_Maybe not on purpose_ , a small voice in the back of his mind said.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, Allura's voice rang out, sharp and harsh and tight in annoyance. 

"Number Four, you're slowing down!"

Keith focused on staying ahead of the training bot, even as a slow, steady sensation of fear began snaking its way through his mind.

_ Hear that? She's angry, now. _

'Shut _up_ ,' he muttered under his breath, but the fear didn't go away.

_You, of all people, should know what someone is capable of when they're angry._

When the bot charged again, Keith failed to get out of the way in time, and received a harsh blow across the arm as a result.

Keith winced, almost chancing a quick glance over his shoulder towards Allura, but he restrained the impulse just in time. If Allura was angry at him, he didn't want to piss her off if he could avoid it. 

His arm ached from where the bo staff had struck him, but he'd had worse from solo training exercises back in Garrison. It was fine, he was fine -

"Number Four! _Get_ **_moving_**!"

Allura's shout cut through his thoughts, and this time, the bo staff hit him across the ribs. When Keith hit the ground, he found it difficult to get back up. As he struggled to back onto his feet, the robot's bo staff descended towards his skull. 

From where she stood on the sidelines watching, Allura's eyes narrowed.

"End training sequence," she snapped. 

The blue light in the robot's eye winked out, and Keith let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

_ Shit, that had been close. A few more tics and - _

" _What_ was _that_ , Keith?" Allura demanded, now coming to stand directly in front of him. 

Keith got to his feet, albeit shakily. His right arm ached more than he had expected, and it was harder to get air into his lungs than a few moments before.

"Sorry, Princess," he said, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the ground in front of his feet. "I guess - I need more training." That was probably the safest thing to say right now. Avoid her glare, confirm what she was thinking, that he's not as good as she thought he was, and get out of the room as soon as possible.

She exhales sharply before replying.

"Fine. Get yourself patched up. We're doing this drill again, and you'll be going first. Be back here in one varga."

She turns, about to go join the others, but Keith asks the question before he can stop himself.

"A varga - that's - one Earth hour, right?"

She whirls in place, and he flinches before he can stop himself. The anger boils in her eyes. It's contained, most of the time, but right now - 

_ He should have stayed quiet. _

" _Yes_ ," she spits. "It _is_." She folds her arms, and even though she's still severa; feet away, Keith wants to take a few steps away from her.

"Do you have any _other_ questions, _Keith_? Or is that all?"

Her expression, and her stance, speak volumes. 

_ Go _ **_ away.  _ **

Keith swallows, nods hastily, and leaves the room.

* * *

* * *

Now, in the infirmary, Keith tells himself that he's over-reacting to Allura's treatment.

_Is he, though?_

He does his best to distract himself by rummaging as quietly as he can through the items in the infirmary for what he needs, but the thought doesn't leave his mind.

Ever since the revelation of his heritage, Allura....

Well. She's treated him differently.

_She knows what you are now. Why should she want to be **your** friend?_

Keith turns his attention back to the shelf containing bandages, attempting to distract himself with accomplishing a goal.

Get the bandages, check. Roll up his jackets' right sleeve so he can wrap the bandages around bruised area, check. 

Figure out a way to dispel Allura’s misplaced anger against him, in progress.

_You know it's not that easy._

Keith exhales softly as he begins to wrap his arm.

He isn't certain he'll ever find a way to accomplish that last one.

* * *

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, he completes the task, replaces the supplies on the shelves, and quietly closes the cabinet door.

He’d been careful about it, putting everything back in the place they had been before, even adjusting the boxes so the sides of the labeled items are at the same angle they had been before he’d moved them.

Making things appear untouched comes as second nature to him. Growing up, he eventually figured out that when he left fewer traces of his presence, the fewer things his foster parents would point out that were ‘wrong’ with him.

_Leaving a mess. Using things that were meant for the ‘whole’ family. Taking up too much space, making too much noise, being ‘selfish’._

It all boiled down to one essential message: _We don’t want you here_. Everyone will be happier when you’re gone. In the meantime, try not to piss us off.

As a result, Keith made certain to return things back to drawers or shelves exactly as they had been before he touched them. He rarely filled his plate more than once at mealtimes, because he didn’t want to take something that someone else needed or wanted. Above all, he never, ever, _ever_ wrote his thoughts down on paper. 

He didn’t want someone deciding that he couldn't be trusted and using that assumption to rifle through his things, only for the intruder to discover more reasons why Keith should be avoided, mocked, or, at best, ignored.

A memory tugged at the corner of his mind.

_“You like violence, don’t you? Admit it!”_

_His foster mother loomed over him, eyes flaring with rage and disgust. She was pointing to the knife that had, moments before, been in his bedside drawer, and was now lying on the kitchen table. She’d stomped over to where he sat doing his homework in the dining room and all but flung it down in front of him, her entire form shaking in fury as she screamed down at him._

_He looked down at the knife, then back up at her._

_The accusation had come out of nowhere. Confusion and fear took his words away._

_“I - I - uh -“_

_His foster mother sneered down at him, twisting her expression up in cruel mockery of his own expression._

_“Uh - uh - I - I -“ she echoed, malicious satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “I knew it! You **are** dangerous -“_

_Keith slowly stood up, fists clenched at his sides. “I’m - I’m **not** ,” he managed. To his horror, he found he wanted to cry. No, not here, never here. Not safe. **Never** safe._

_“It’s - it’s all I have left of my past,” he managed. “And I - I’d never -“_

_Even the thought of using the knife on someone sickens him. In desperate self defense, maybe, or to protect another person against danger, but -_

_His foster mother throws her hands up in a gesture of smug triumph._

_“You **would** say that, wouldn’t you?” She spat. “You think I don’t see you for what you are?”_

* * *

Years later, the memory still hurts. Keith just stands there, in the infirmary, staring at the closed cabinet doors, hearing the words again.

_**You’re a freak, and you always will be.** _

He had turned away from her, grabbed the knife, and run.He’d intentionally gone out the back door, taking every path that led away from anyone who might have though he was angry and going to attack them.

The truth was, he didn’t want to hurt anyone.

He just wanted to _get_ _away_ , away from the people who only assumed the worst of him simply because it was easier than trying to see the good in someone who wasn’t talented at talking, or making friends, or knowing how to bethe kind of kid that someone 'wanted' in their house.

Footsteps echoed down the passage, and the sound brought Keith back to the present. He hastily tugged the sleeve of his red jacket further down his arm, covering up the bandages.

The bruising wasn’t a big deal. It would go away in time.

* * *

* * *

An hour later, his arm hasn't stopped aching. If anything, it's gotten worse.

Keith hasn't stopped to look at the bruise since he covered it up, but it feels much more swollen than it had before. He doesn't have time to worry about it, though, because Allura has already called them all back for the next round of ‘challenging’ training.

Keith does relatively well, right up until the Gladiator training bot sweeps both of his legs out from under him. Keith instinctively tries to break his fall with his arm, and -

Well.

This time, even Allura can't ignore the way he reacts.

* * *

Lance has just made one of his witty wise-ass comments about Keith taking a hit to his ego when the scream rings out.

Hunk’s head whips around so quickly, Pidge fears the Yellow Paladin might suffer whiplash.

“Holy shit!” Pidgeblurts out as Keith, to everyone’s astonishment, remains on the ground, even as the training bot raises its bo staff above its head, about to deliver another blow.

“End training sequence,” Allura snaps. She's already striding forwards, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“What was that, Keith?!” She snaps. “I thought you learned from last time -"

Even when the Gladiator shuts down, Keith doesn't move. He stays where he is, crumpled on the ground, curled into a ball, the side of his face pressed against the floor.

She keeps stomping forwards, shoulders tight with tension, eyes angry and sparking with distinct ire.

“- you should be _better_ then this, you’re a _fighter_ , now get back up and-“

It was only when she's standing directly above him that she sees how pale his face has gone, and the unnatural angle of his right arm.

She crouches down to examine it, still frustrated, but now with a sense of vague guilt gnawing at her consciousness.

“Let me see,” she demands. “I may be able to -“

But he only shakes his head in answer. His lip is bleeding, and his eyes are tight shut. His breaths come harsh and ragged, but steadily, so there's no immediate danger there -

“-'ll b-be - f-fine,” he gasps. His hands are shaking. “Just - just - n-need a - a second -“

At a loss of what more to do, Allura sits back with a frown. Even as she does so, annoyance at her momentary display of weakness flares through her chest. She had been _concerned_ , for _him_.

_**Why** had she been worried about **him**? _

She, of all people, knows that the Galr - that his _bloodline_ lends itself to speedier recovery from injuries then most other species. 

“Well, then. Go ahead and - and resume the training session, then.”

She begins to get to her feet,but pauses when she sees that Keith still hasn't raised his face away from the floor. If anything, he appears to be trying to sink deeper into the ground, away from her, away from the others, away from everything.

“Keith?”

The trembling has spread to his shoulders, his torso, his arms and legs. 

No, this is not trembling. Not anymore.

He's _shaking_.

“ -‘m sorry,” he whispers. "For - m-messing up -"

She hesitates, still frustrated and angry and needing to point it somewhere. Still...Keith seems to be...afraid. Of _her_.

_That's not a good feeling._

When Allura speaks again, she does her best to keep her tone controlled and polite. It's not entirely reassuring, but at least it's not openly hostile like it had been moments before.

"Well. We can - always train - again - tommorr-"

Keith shakes his head from side to side, but he still won't look up at her.

"-n-not - t-training. For - for -"

His voice trails off, but the full-body shaking continues. 

Allura reaches towards his arm, but when her fingertips brush against his skin, Keith flinches away from her, almost as if he expects her touch to inflict pain.

"P-please don't make me leave," he whispers. "I - d-didn't -"

He still won't open his eyes to look up at her, but a tear slides down the side of his face even as she stares back down at him in growing unease.

"- know -'bout - the - B-lade -"

Just for a moment, Allura's brain does not put the pieces of the puzzle together. When it does, she does not like the person she sees herself to be.

Oh, _Ancients_.

"-I - I d-didn't - kn-now," he stammers. "-'m _really_ \- s-sorry -"

Allura bites her lip.

"You don't have to apologize," she says, very quietly. "I'm - I'm not good at - these things."

She slowly reaches out to lay a hand on Keith's uninjured shoulder, but just then, Shiro reaches Keith’s other side, and then Pidge has joined them, her eyes wide in dismay at the sight of Keith's arm.

“Holy fucking Discworld, I think his arm is fractured.”

Shiro takes one look and nods, harshly.

“Okay. Pod it is. Guys, give me some space here.”

Throughout this entire exchange, Keith has barely moved, and he he hasn’t shown any sign of responding to the questions being fired at him from Lance and Hunk, like 'Holy shit Mullet, are you trying to achieve some kind of record?' and 'Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh that's bad, that's _really_ bad, guys'. 

Shiro picks Keith up as carefully as he can and heads directly towards the healing pods.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, trying to get Keith's attention. “Hey, it’s okay, all right? We're getting you to a pod. We'll get you healed up in no time.”

Keith only shudders in reply, and the Black Paladin grows even more concerned than before. Keith's skin is almost ice-cold to the touch.

“-'m sorry,” Keith whimpers. "-I - messed up - 'm - s-sorry -"

The Altean Princess, who is following close behind, opens her mouth to say something, but shifts her gaze to the floor under her feet before reaching up with one hand to scrub at the corner of her eye. Shiro sees her reaction, and sets his jaw. Oh, they are going to talk about this once the healing cycle starts up. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says again. “Don’t worry about it, all right? It’s okay.”

Keith shakes his head, still pale and trembling. More tears begin to trickle from beneath closed eyelids.

“ -n’t - m-mean - t-to - l-lie,” he coughs. “H-honest, I-d-didn’t - kn-know -"

They’ve reached the pods. Shiro places Keith inside, but not before reaching out with his left hand and ruffling Keith’s hair gently, but affectionately, and very, very carefully.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says. “It’s all right. Just rest now.”

Keith does.

**Author's Note:**

> Aahh!!!! More than two prompts up in the same day?! :D :D AHHHH Hooray! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - please know that I ADORE comments, and they are /extremely/ encouraging to me in helping me get more energy to write :-) <3 <3 <3 <3


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